Page 67 of The City of Zirdai
Shyla started with the First Room of Knowledge. After collecting all the tablets and scrolls with any reference to King Tamburah, she piled them on a low table in the reading area along with four druks. She squirmed into a comfortable position on the cushion and set to work.
After the meeting with her…lieutenants, Shyla had returned to her room. She’d slept until angle zero then packed enough supplies to last her a couple sun jumps. Stopping to say hello to Hanif, she’d informed him that she planned to spend a significant time in the two Rooms of Knowledge. He’d already known that she’d arrived. The monks on guard had beaten her to his office.
When she had researched Tamburah for Banqui’s mission to uncover The Eyes over a circuit ago, she had gone to the University of Zirdai’s library. The resources there hadn’t mentioned or implied there was another vault.
And, as she slowly lost feeling in her backside during the dozens of angles she spent reading, she failed to find any reference in the monks’ collection to a second vault or to another building that Tamburah might have lived in or frequented.
Shyla stood and stretched, rubbing her stiff muscles. Time to explore the map room. Taking a druk, she found the hidden opening and wriggled on her stomach through the small half-moon gap. She’d recently rediscovered it. A sharp pang of loneliness gripped her. Rendor had been with her. He’d stuck his head into the gap, all that he could fit. She wished she could go back to that moment and start over with him.
Focusing on the task at hand, Shyla brushed dirt and sand from her clothes and straightened. None of the monks, including Hanif, knew about this shortcut and she hoped they never did. Otherwise, they’d seal it up and Shyla would be out of luck. No doubt getting permission to enter the map room would be difficult.
A large domed ceiling arched over the octagonal room. Shelves filled with maps lined seven of the eight walls. Beautiful stained-glass doors comprised the final side. Standing in the middle, she held up the druk, illuminating the stacks of scrolls.
The good news—one or more of them was bound to be a map of an ancient site filled with treasure.
The bad news—she didn’t know which ones.
And she wasn’t going to find one just by standing there. She strode to the closest shelf, grabbed the first scroll and examined it. One down, a couple thousand more to go.
She lost track of time as she studied map after map after map. None of them met her criteria: close to their headquarters, shallow enough to be accessed in a reasonable amount of time, andallegedlyfilled with treasure. If she found a structure that met the first two, then she would investigate its history to determine the possibility of the third.
When her vision blurred with fatigue, she returned to the First Room of Knowledge for a break. Research was not for the impatient. She returned the materials she’d collected on Tamburah and decided on a change of scenery…well not quite as the layout of the Second Room of Knowledge mimicked the First. Only the information held inside was different.
As she crossed to the northwest corner of the monastery and descended two levels, she recalled that Banqui had only been focused on Tamburah’s temple when he had worked to uncover The Eyes. And not for the first time, she wished she could talk to the archeologist. Shyla would bet he’d know the location of a few nearby treasures. She hoped he was well and not imprisoned in a black cell.
All this hoping and wishing and yearning for both Rendor and Banqui drained her energy. She had people depending on her. As much as it tempted her, she could not wallow in self-pity. Instead, she pushed those complicated emotions deep within her. She would deal with them later. Much later.
She entered the Second Room of Knowledge and collected all the tablets and scrolls that might contain a reference to Tamburah’s vaults. It was quite a large pile and bigger than the one in the First Room. Sighing, she settled in and read.
It was well into the darkness when Shyla, half asleep and bleary eyed, found a comment that might have been an allusion to other vaults. Suddenly awake, she scanned the passage a couple times. It had been written by the official scribe, but for his own personal account. The scroll chronicled Tamburah’s increasing paranoia. How he had doubled his guards, switched sleeping rooms, arrested his advisors and hired all new people, and became obsessed with his wealth. Tamburah had ordered his servants to move his valuables to different locations until he found one that he believed was secure, then he killed them all so only he knew where his treasures were. When one of his generals had expressed concern that the king wouldn’t remember, Tamburah had pointed to his left temple and said,It’s all right here. Then he had the man put to death for his impertinence.
At first, Shyla thought Tamburah referred to his memory. Then she suspected it might have to do with The Eyes. Either way it wasn’t going to help her. She continued to read the scribe’s journal. It detailed Tamburah’s decline into madness, his increased blood lust and obsession with eyes. Nausea churned in her stomach as she learned that the king had delighted in personally gouging out the eyes of his enemies, which sounded like anyone who had dared to even look at him.
She hunched over and hugged her arms to her chest. Was that her fate? According to the written history, Tamburah had been about thirty-one circuits old when he’d assumed power and allegedly The Eyes. Signs of his unbalanced mental state had been mentioned approximately ten circuits later. He’d been assassinated nineteen and a half circuits after he’d been crowned. Did that mean she only had ten circuits of lucidity? And would Rendor keep his promise to remove The Eyes when—if—she turned into a tyrannical maniac like Tamburah? Probably not. Rendor no longer wished to be with her. She needed to ask another to ensure she didn’t become a monster.
Resting her forehead on the edge of the cold stone table, Shyla endured a moment of overwhelming sadness despite her earlier resolve. Being the leader of the Invisible Sword hadn’t pressed as hard on her shoulders when Rendor had been a member. At least Jayden would be more than happy to take The Eyes from her should she go rogue. In fact, he might be too willing. Perhaps Gurice or Ximen would be a better choice.
When she’d indulged in her self-pity long enough, Shyla returned to the scroll, skimming Tamburah’s long list of horrors and increasingly erratic behavior. One comment snagged her attention. The scribe claimed Tamburah frequently stared at his sculpture—the oversized relief of Tamburah’s face carved into one of the walls of his judgment room. The king had referred to his sand visage as his legacy many times. The scribe had assigned the behavior as another sign of the king’s megalomania, but Shyla wondered if there was more to it.
A memory tugged. She’d studied the carving closely when she had waited for the Invisible Sword. Something about Tamburah’s face…the configuration of the blue and purple sand had reminded her of a map. Excitement pumped through her. If she examined the pattern with her new sight, would it reveal more?
Of course no one would agree that it was worth the risk to go to Tamburah’s judgment room to examine it. Both the Water Prince and Heliacal Priestess might be watching the temple. However, the Invisible Sword’s old hideout was in the lower levels so the upper ones might be safer.
She sensed that pattern might be a key. To what, she’d no idea.
Good thing she didn’t need anyone’s permission.
Instead of dashing off to Tamburah’s temple, Shyla remained in the Second Room of Knowledge until she read through all the scrolls and tablets she’d collected on Tamburah. It took the rest of the darkness to finish. Nothing else mentioned or even hinted at the existence of another vault or buildings. Because that would just be too easy. She returned the materials to their proper shelves.
Stiff, sore, exhausted, and with a headache that throbbed behind her eyes, Shyla staggered to her room in the empty wing of the monastery. Sinking into the soft sleeping cushion, she wondered if anyone would notice if she stole it. An image of her hunched over with the cushion on her back as she trudged through the desert made her giggle. Perhaps the monks on guard would think she was an oversized velbloud looking for its flock.
She dreamed she flew high above the sands, connected to the ground by a thin thread. Her pleasure over the view warred with her fear as the fibers in the thread slowly unraveled. She woke the instant the thread snapped. Or was it the sound of her door opening that had jolted her from sleep?
Either way, she was on her feet when Easan entered her room. He held a druk and the young monk’s face was creased with worry.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Captain Yates is here with a platoon of guards. They’ve orders to search the monastery for you.”
